


To Save The One You Love

by FieryEclipse



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mild slash, Romance, Save the Cheerleader Save the World, Series 1, Subway, Time Travel, alternate "Hiros", set during "Hiros"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryEclipse/pseuds/FieryEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes emotions can get in the way of doing what's right...</p><p>Set during Season 1 "Hiros", where instead of a Hiro from the future it's... someone else... that delivers Peter the most important message: "Save the cheerleader, save...?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Save The One You Love

 

The carriage was eerily quiet, and the lack of sound and movement crept shivers up Peter Petrelli's spine. The lights had dimmed to a fraction of their power, tinting everything a sickly, fluorescent green. Heart hammering, he tugged on the door again, calling out desperately for anyone, anything to answer him. But when nothing did, he gave up and turned, defeated, to once again observe the hair-raising scene that he had found himself in.

 

His breaths came deeply and he tried not to panic, but the unseeing eyes and frozen bodies of his fellow New Yorkers creeped him out more than he would like to admit. It felt like being trapped in a nightmare, right at the precipice of the gut-wrenching fall back into conciousness, but the dizzying feeling of toppling over the edge didn't go away. Everything just felt _wrong._ Peter would have hugged himself and huddled into a corner if he could be certain these people wouldn't wake up and find him in that state. Something inexplicable, unexplainable was going on here, and he couldn't hope to understand it. Although, honestly, he also couldn't really understand a man who could paint the future or two brothers that could fly.

 

“Mohinder...?” He croaked weakly, shaking the blank-faced Indian's shoulders another time, not sure what he even thought would happen. He was unaccountably alone in a crowded train carriage that was packed with dozens of people frozen mid-action.

 

Peter's breathing was the only sound, until a faint thump made him prick his ears. There it was again: a soft thud, then another, growing in volume and speed. It soon became apparent that they were coming from the roof of the carriage. And that they were footsteps.

 

When the footsteps abruptly stopped, Peter held his breath. Every hair on the back of his neck was already risen, and his eyes darted around him for any sign of another living person that could have made the noise. For any sign of an explanation or reassurance that he hadn't lost his mind.

 

“Peter...”

 

Peter jumped with a short gasp, turning to face the direction of the voice that sounded again, hurried this time. “Hey, hey, please don't worry! I'm not here to hurt you.”

 

Blinking swiftly, as if to sharpen his vision, Peter squinted at the tall man standing at the far side of the carriage. He had both hands raised before him in a sign of reassurance, and was very much exempt from the immobile fate of the others. Just like Peter was. “Who are you? What's going on here? Are you _doing_ this?” He croaked, throat compressed and mind spinning with too many questions.

 

“It's alright. They're not hurt or anything. I'm stopping time, that's all.” The man said calmly, starting to walk nearer. _Stopping time...?!_ And the way he'd said it, as if this was the most normal, expected thing in the world, was even more disconcerting than the actual words themselves. The tall, slender, all-in-black stranger took a few light steps in Peter's direction but faltered when Peter backed away, clearly uneasy and upset. “It's not dangerous, Peter. It's an ability, like yours.”

 

Peter's wide eyes and heaving chest only further expressed his surprise. “You _know_ about me? What I can _do_...?”

 

The other man nodded, smiling a small smile and daring another few steps closer. “Yeah. I'm...” He broke off to chuckle to himself quietly, deep rumbling sounds in his chest. “Okay, I know how this sounds, but bare with me... I'm from the future. Five years from now. I can bend time and space, which is how all of _this..._ is happening.” He extended long arms at the unnerving scene, then sneaked a few inches closer once more.

 

But again, Peter found himself backing away. It was all too much, none of it made any sense! He shuffled away until his back hit the far wall of the carriage and there was nowhere else to go. Shaking his head profusely, causing his dark hair to swing, he couldn't tear his eyes from the figure that somehow seemed to draw all the air in the place towards him. A pitiful “...why?” was all that Peter's dry mouth could manage.

 

“I had to come back. To tell you something important. But I can't wait too long, in case I mess up the whole time/space continuum. As stupid as that sounds, trust me, I don't want to piss off the wrong people from my end.” A few more cautious paces followed a humorous little exhale of breath.

 

Time travelling, time _stopping,_ time-space continuum...?! Still unsure whether to believe him or not, Peter thought over those words while re-evaluating his surroundings. How did he know if he could trust this guy? Yes, a time stopping ability could easily explain what was happening here, but that still didn't explain if he was really here for the reason given. Some of the comics Peter had read growing up had warned of moments like these, and they usually didn't bode well in the end.

 

So Peter cocked his head to the side slightly, gaze raking over this stranger. “How do you know me?”

 

“We're friends, Peter.” He spoke softly, and Peter didn't need to rely on his empathetic ability to latch onto the affection directed his way. The intruder had crept close enough now that Peter could see his face clear enough to be surprisingly startled. The man was strikingly handsome and looked to be around Peter's own age, no more than a few years older. Hair so dark it was practically black stuck up thick and tousled above a heavy brow, sporting the most magnificent eyebrows Peter had ever laid eyes on. Nice features adorned an angled face: a soft, plump mouth; a strong nose; and deep, intense eyes that swirled a colour not quite black, not quite amber. Maybe it was the proximity, the closest so far, or maybe it was because now that he had a real face, but Peter couldn't ignore the fact that this was a real person with real intentions. And at once he sympathised with this man. But he honestly knew that he didn't recognise him. He'd never seen the guy before in his life.

 

“Who _are_ you?” He repeated, but less accusingly this time. His rightful wariness was taking a while to recover from the brief respite of shock. Sure, this man was attractive, but good looks along with what could just be an elaborate prank wasn't enough to allow Peter to relax around a perfect stranger who was possibly from the future, and who seemed to have immense power and knowledge of him. Who had now stopped and was standing within touching range. He was _very_ tall.

 

The man's brows lifted a little, and he himself seemed to snap out of a dreamlike state of surveying every millimetre of Peter. “Sorry, I should have said. My name's... uh, why don't you just call me Gabriel? It'll be easier that way... Sorry, I'm really not making a great job of this, am I? It's just that... coming back here and, and seeing _you_ ... that way...” Gabriel's hands lifted to his mouth, where he linked his fingers together subconsciously. Those burning eyes studied Peter's face thoroughly, and it was impossible not to feel vulnerable and exposed. But then, when Gabriel smiled and his slightly crooked teeth lit up the carriage, every rational semblance of fear drained away from Peter's body. “It's _really_ great to see you, Peter... You look so _good_ ! _Young_...”

 

For a moment it seemed that Gabriel was going to reach for Peter's face, but stopped himself grudgingly. Struggling with restraint, the brief glimmer of undiluted pleasure faded from his open face, and he constructed a more neutral expression for appearances sake.

 

Peter's heart raced even faster than it had up until this point, and he suddenly wasn't entirely sure he would have pushed Gabriel off if he had indeed touched him. In the otherwise temporarily dead world, another conscious person felt like the only source of warmth in a blizzard. Eventually, he found his voice. “What d'you mean “so good”? What does that mean for me in the... future?” He cleared his throat, voice deep and husky. It sounded ridiculous saying it aloud, but then again, “ridiculous” would just about cover the last few days of Peter's crazy life.

 

Gabriel shook his head to dispel any worry. “Nothing bad.” He said smoothly. “It's just that I've really... missed you. Like this. So optimistic, innocent... beautiful.” He purred, and a warm smile broke through his composed exterior. “Although, I always think you're beautiful. No matter what.”

 

Peter flushed instantly at such callous praise, and his insides began to tingle with the unfamiliar thrill of admiration. He felt very small and irrelevant beside this strange figure who seemed to exude importance of some kind. And like so much of what felt _off_ here, he just couldn't put his finger on it. “I don't know you.” Peter managed to sound calm and raised his eyebrows for emphasis, unconsciously mirroring Gabriel's pose of arms reached out in front of him, palms facing out to project his sincerity.

 

The fond look Gabriel draped over Peter had some lingering pity around the edges. “Not yet. But we've been friends for a long time now. My time, I mean, not yet for you. But you're going to meet me properly pretty soon.”

 

Forcibly dragging his eyes from the depths of Gabriel's and sweeping them around the carriage again, Peter was once again struck by the utter unfeasibility of this condition. These people were literally _stopped in time_ , there was no denying that. So, theoretically, this guy _Gabriel_ could be telling the truth. At least the brief glimpses of his feelings that had slipped loose had felt real enough to Peter that he was actually beginning to feel guilty for not knowing him in return. Typical Peter with the bleeding heart! He could almost already see Nathan's disapproving head shake.

 

Seemingly breaking out of another, longing trance, Gabriel slapped his hands to his thighs and more rumbling chuckles filled the air. “ _Anyway_ , I didn't come here to just stare at you and make you uncomfortable! I need to tell you this... it's very important, are you listening? You have to save the cheerleader.”

 

“Cheerleader? What cheerleader?” Peter asked, brows furrowed. It was hardly the world-altering advice you'd expect from a future time lord. Maybe a cure for deadly viruses or the key to a super technology of some kind... but a _cheerleader_...?

 

Gabriel's face contorted as he choiced over his words. “There's... a man. He's hunting this girl down, trying to steal her ability. She's special, like us. She can heal, and if you get close enough to her you'll absorb that healing ability too... that's the most important bit. But you also need to stop the man from hurting her, and you have to meet him." Determination morphed into disgust in Gabriel's eyes, if Peter wasn't mistaken. “He's very dangerous and has hurt a lot of people. You have to be the one to tame him. To stop him before he becomes unsalvageable.”

 

Blinking fast, Peter breathed heavily. “Well, how can I stop him? Where's the cheerleader? What's she got to do with it?”

 

“She's in Odessa, Texas. It's a homecoming game. As for... _Sylar,_ that's his name,and stopping him... as long as you get the healing ability he can't hurt you. And that's what matters. You'll be stronger than him and he won't be able to beat you.”

 

“Wait...” As the words sank into Peter's already overwhelmed and sluggish mind, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open, slightly askew as ever. “Do you want me to _kill_ this guy...!? I can't do that!”

 

“Oh, Peter,” Gabriel purred once again, his eyes suddenly shining with the beginning of tears. A smile complimented his lips and he looked down at Peter as if he was the most precious thing on the planet. “I forgot that you used to be so moral, so good. Please don't ever lose that.” Peter swallowed, not liking the insinuation of his future self. “I'd prefer it if you don't kill him – Sylar. I'm not saying it'll be easy stopping him...” His voice was tainted with regret and sorrow but Peter, who could only guess why, waited patiently to hear more. “But you can absorb all of his abilities too, and become an equal match for him. You're the only one that can do it.”

 

“I don't know if I can-” Peter said quietly, face blatantly betraying his deep-seated worries.

 

“Yes you can. I have full faith in you.” And for the first time, Gabriel was brave enough to extend a hand, closing pink fingers gently around Peter's forearm. He beamed down into his face, the warmth from his skin seeping through Peter's sleeve. “I know how lost you feel right now, you told me many times. But it's all going to be okay. You're going to be...” He sifted for the right word. “ _Extraordinary_!” It then hung, savoured in the air long after it left his lips, and it was clear that it was the desired treasure Gabriel had intended it to be.

 

Peter let out a shaky gasp at the word, the one that burned inside him as an eternal goal to reach. The goal that he prayed and wished for, but hadn't spoken aloud to anybody for fear of it being laughed off as “yet another of Peter's _dreams_...”. He hadn't even told Nathan, but he suspected his brother already knew, always had known. But now here he was, hearing his deepest, most secret desire promised to him by a maybe-stranger...

 

“How did-?”

 

“You already _are_ extraordinary, Peter. Please don't be scared – you've got this.” Unmissable, confidence-inspiring trust shone brightly in Gabriel's handsome face, and Peter was overwhelmed with the knowledge of that. To this man he, Peter, was a hero. There was no mistaking that. And that fact was so foreign, so delicious, and so true to Peter's utmost dreams that he wondered if it was his ability transferring Gabriel's emotions to him, or just his own natural, human reaction to this person that made his blood heat. Tight, warm fingers uncurled themselves from his arm, which tingled at the absence of touch, and Peter just somehow _knew_ that Gabriel was fighting the urge to grab on again and this time never let go.

 

Being idolized by someone was such a rare commodity, one that Peter had always wondered about but never quite reached. He knew the situation very well from the other side – having ironically built up Nathan to be an untouchable hero amongst mere men - but that was the closest he was yet to experience of it. Somehow Nathan always made it look so easy. Now, barely two minutes had gone by and already Peter had began to feel himself crippling under the weight of expectations.

 

It felt mean to crush Gabriel's hopes, but Peter would rather be honest than mislead him. His voice was small when it broke the silence. “What if I can't do it? What happens if I fail?”

 

“You won't fail, you can't. I know you, Peter, and I know you'll never give up as long as there's someone who needs your help.” Peter lifted his eyes from a living statue's half-poured cup of coffee to another of those inspiring, sweet smiles. “And here I am asking for it.”

 

Peter nodded mutely, signing his name on the dotted line on the contract of his future.

 

He was taken aback by how the guy, Gabriel, seemed to really, _truly,_ know him so well. He was fast running out of excuses for all of this but, really, was time travel that much harder to believe than flying? With every passing second the distinction between the two blurred more, and Peter knew before even admitting it internally that he and this Gabriel _must_ really be friends in another life. Secretly, that was very pleasing to know. After going so long of being unloved, unappreciated by even Nathan and his mother, Gabriel was a bright spark in his future that gave him hope. At least at some point there would be someone who cared about him.

 

The taller man chewed his lower lip, unable to take his eyes off of his companion. “I have to go now.” He said darkly, but it couldn't have been clearer that was the last thing he wanted to do. Swivelling on the spot, as if repeatedly making the first move to leave, his feet never left the floor once. His hands kept twitching in indecisiveness. Stomach wringing and pulse pounding, Peter almost summoned enough courage to whisper aloud that _it's okay._.. and that he gave his permission to do what Gabriel was wanting to. But he never could quite form the words.

 

Gratefully though, to both of them, Gabriel overcame his hesitation alone. With downplayed exhilaration, he reached both hands up to cup Peter's cheeks tenderly. His palms were rough and hot, and Peter found it too easy to forget that he didn't know this man, and just sank into the feel of his caress.

 

“I've missed you so much.” Gabriel whispered. A flush was blooming out around his eyes and nose, writing the threat of tears clearly on his face. But he was smiling, as if it would compensate for the hurt he was so clearly feeling. Peter's eyebrows piqued in the middle, and he was rushed by the desperate want to comfort Gabriel. It was _his_ fault he was upset anyway, even if he had nothing to do with it or no choice and understanding in the matter. But, as Gabriel had so precisely said, Peter Petrelli was physically unable to just sit by when someone needed help that he could supply. So with his face still cradled softly in those hands, he carefully placed his on each side of Gabriel's waist, at an appropriate height. He squeezed his fingers enough to be encouraging, just an innocent touch light enough to be noticed.

 

“I'm sorry for getting like this, I promised myself I wouldn't.” Gabriel laughed dryly, sniffing forcefully through a running nose, but still his eyes drank in every minuscule detail of Peter's face as if to commit it to memory. The former nurse suddenly found his throat constricted by the immense love written on those features, meant for _him_. “But... I'd never forgive myself if I didn't...” His fingers traced across Peter's jaw, up his cheekbones, and reached up into his hair. With a small, escaped sigh of content, he ran his left hand through the overgrown, soft fringe, lifting it from over Peter's eye and affectionately tucking it behind his ear. The process was repeated a few times as Gabriel lovingly grooming him and occasionally sighed embarrassedly at his actions. He was stalling, and they both knew it.

 

“It's okay...” Peter whispered, barely more than a breath, before he had even decided to. For a moment he regretted it – he'd barely spent five minutes with this guy! At least in _his_ lifetime. But somehow that didn't seem to matter. Peter had known people for years and never experienced such a strong magnetic undercurrent like the one transpiring between himself and Gabriel this very instant. This was unique. This was _special_. And he ached to help so badly...

 

It was the tiniest twitch of a nerve in Gabriel's eyebrow that cemented it: he really did know Peter. Unless he could read minds as well as stop time – and Peter could only imagine that was possible – he knew _exactly_ what Peter was thinking without a word of it being voiced.

 

Suddenly the carriage seemed to shrink, and Gabriel smoothly closed the remaining distance between the only two beating hearts in the crowded place, pressing his body gently against Peter's. He was so warm, so sturdy and secure, and Peter's eyelids slid closed of their own accord. Even though Nathan was hundreds of miles away, Peter would swear he could fly right now.

 

Soft, wet lips, so hot, so gentle encased Peter's own, and his fingers clenched in the rough fabric of Gabriel's jacket. It wasn't hurried or forced, just a simple press of closed lips to closed lips, but Peter couldn't remember another incident hitting him as strongly as this one did. Not even plummeting off a thirty story building with no safety net.

 

He couldn't be sure how long they stood there interlocked, rocking slightly on the spot, but then again time was frozen, so it didn't really matter. All Peter was aware of was those careful hands on his cheek and neck, the solidity of a masculine body against him and the sweetest, most longing kiss he'd ever experienced. Something unlocked in them both at the same time: in Gabriel, a sense of completion, of reaching a goal; in Peter, the utter selfless satisfaction in helping someone find that.

 

The quiet sound of the kiss breaking jolted Peter suddenly back to reality, and he stood and stared into Gabriel's lovely face, both their hurried breaths mingling. That had been utterly stupid, reckless, he'd never in his life kissed someone so soon after meeting them – not even in college! Yet it had felt so good. So _right_.

 

Subtle tracks shone on Gabriel's cheeks, and suddenly Peter noticed his own were wet from the transfer of tears. He squeezed his fingers tighter. “Thank you.” Gabriel breathed, trying so hard not to look like he'd been crying. It was almost believable.

 

A signature crooked smile made its way onto Peter's face and he whispered back. “You don't have to thank me.”

 

“No, I do. This... I didn't come back to do this, Peter. I hope you don't feel used by me.”

 

“No, of course not.” Peter insisted. The thought hadn't even occurred to him, although it probably should have. “Do... do we do that often in the future?”

 

“...No...” Gabriel confessed, wincing as if the word had pierced his heart.

 

Then a long heave of breath tickled Peter's hair and Gabriel was suddenly upon him in a hug, cradling him in long arms. But Peter truly didn't mind. He just stood with his own arms around another person, his heart hammering due to the course of events and his head buzzing with so many questions. He wanted to know more about this future: was he to change it? Or was all of this to ensure it happened the way it should? Were people going to die? But mostly he wanted to know about Gabriel. What did this mean in the future? Were they together or was he not to expect that then? When would they meet for real, and what should he say to him...? There was so much he still didn't understand, didn't know.

 

But mostly Peter just knew that he didn't want Gabriel to go.

 

Too soon though, Gabriel withdrew his embrace and lifted his chin from Peter's head, heat trailing over his scalp and back from the touch. He then placed a hand on Peter one last time, right in the centre of his beating chest. “I hope I didn't scare you too much.” He hummed, finding a sick sense of humour in his word choice, and tilted his head in a playful manner. “I can promise you I won't be like this when we really meet.”

 

“That's okay.” Peter was not surprised to hear his voice was weak. He meant it as a reassurance that Gabriel hadn't scared him with his affections today. He wondered what their actual meeting would be like if _this_ is what Gabriel considered “scary”...

 

“Just remember, Peter: find the cheerleader, Claire. Odessa, Texas. Get her power, you have to do this or everything will fall apart.” Peter made a conscious effort to retain the information, again stifling under the weight of that responsibility. Then Gabriel smiled up at him again and eased the constriction in his chest. “You're going to be alright, y'know.” The cracks in his happy facade were masked more believably this time, except the blood rushing to his face still hadn't faded from his complexion. “The world will be lucky to have you.”

 

And before lingering more, he turned and hurried away on long strides down the carriage, past the living statues that his appearance had created. Suddenly struck with the intense desire to do or say something before he was gone forever, Peter called out. “Wait!” And was relieved when Gabriel stopped, still facing away. “T-thanks.” Was all that he could muster. Thanks for the confidence, for your unwavering faith in me, for this precious moment of feeling so important to another human being... He wanted to say it all aloud, but his strangled throat wouldn't allow it.

 

Not that he needed to, it seemed Gabriel knew again exactly what he was thinking. With a knowing chuckle, he turned back to look at Peter. In the few seconds he had been turned, Gabriel's tears had fallen freely. His face was now tinted pink more than ever and his cheeks and long eyelashes shone wetly in the weak lights on the roof. When he spoke, his voice was choked with both sobs and love. “You're welcome.”

 

Peter took a tentative step closer, knowing only that he didn't want to leave it like this. “I look forward to meeting you properly. Again. In my time.” He said with a hopeful curve of lips that made Gabriel spit out a pleasing laugh.

 

“You don't know what you're saying, Peter. Just... go easy on me, 'kay? ...Don't give up on me. I always loved you.” He took one final moment to lap the younger man up with those eyes, then closed them tightly and took a deep breath. Peter watched, nervous for what would happen next. Then all at once the lights flickered on brightly, the carriage swung into motion again and the space was now way too loud with dozens of chattering voices.

 

Time had started again, and Peter found himself peering desperately through the sea of people for any glimpse of his intriguing mystery friend. But if the continuum of time wasn't a clear enough indication, he was gone. Nothing remained of him except the lingering taste on Peter's lips.

 

“Peter? What happened? How did you get all the way over here?” Mohinder's brisk, confused voice sounded strange and unusual after Gabriel's soft tone, and Peter needed a moment to focus his eyes on Mohinder's questioning expression. He had no idea in hell how he was going to explain what had just happened.

 

*

 

The room was silent except the steady, rhythmic beeping of the monitor. Then some papers on the desk rustled in the wind then steadied when Sylar teleported beside them. For a moment he didn't move, eyes still closed and the last image of young, sweet Peter burned into his throbbing eyelids. The heat tingled on his skin. His breath started hitching and he wiped fresh tears from his cheeks, willing himself to open his eyes and face his reality.

 

Faking a brave face, he crossed the room and knelt down beside the bed, reaching through the bars of the handrail. “I did it, baby.” He crooned softly. “I did it.” His hands were damp from tears and still warm from young Peter's skin - he could almost feel the pumping of that heartbeat echoing on his palm. Then he gently intertwined his fingers through the limp, clammy ones of the man beside him, lifting the beautiful hand to his lips.

 

“Don't worry anymore. It's all going to work out. It's all going to change, now. He'll do it, I know he will. _You_ know he will.” This time he didn't bother to stem the flow of tears, and reached his free hand up to caress the man's scarred face and stoke his slicked-back hair. Sylar traced his fingers over that jaw and those cheekbones in an imitation of just moments ago. He felt exactly the same to touch, the same bone structure and soft skin. Although he was now lined slightly around his eyes and forehead, and permanently imprinted with a great gash that tore the length of his once perfect face, there was barely any change in the man that Sylar loved. He lay here now, so similar to how he had been back in the carriage, at least from the outside. His worn and battle-scarred soul was easily hidden when he was like this, but Sylar still couldn't ignore it.

 

The kiss had been wrong, he shouldn't have done it. So much for time-space continuum – who knew what events it might trigger? But he had so desperately needed it, selfish though that might be, and even now he didn't regret it. He hadn't been lying: he hadn't kissed anyone in a long time. Not since...

 

He eyed the various tubes and wires decorating his lover's failing body and feeding into the machines that were keeping him alive. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt the heart-stuttering, soul-sparkling warmth of hope burn inside. He _knew_ his plan would work - there was no doubting Peter's commitment to anything. Whether that was saving a cheerleader from a murderous past version of Sylar and gaining the ability to heal in the past, or using every last ounce of strength to cling to life like he was doing here today.

 

Sylar tightened his grip on Peter's hand and looked over him again, this time without seeing the bloody bandages and bruises. He knew that Peter would argue with his decision if he could. But all the shouting and always-heroic insisting of sacrifice for the greater good wouldn't change Sylar's mind. Yes, changing the past was always dangerous, but what other risk was more worth taking than to save the one you love?

 

Altering the past was a risky subject, and not doing so was the one condition Hiro had given before letting Sylar in on his ability. Lying had been the only option to achieve it - and so he had lied incessantly. He had betrayed and cheated his friends to get this done, but he didn't care about them or himself or destroying his still-fragile reputation. He only cared about preserving the life of the person who meant the most to him in this world. Preventing the accident wasn't enough. It could happen again at any time. But if young Peter got off that train and set about the events that would not only lead him to meeting Sylar, but to acquiring Claire's ability, then it would ensure his survival forever.

 

The one thing Sylar wouldn't do in the name of love was to let it die and that, in itself, felt like a pretty good rule to live by.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sylar comes from a slightly different 5 years gone future, in which he and Peter are together and Sylar isn't Nathan in disguise. Neither of them obtained Claire's healing ability in that time, but still met at Odessa. I think that's pretty similar to the canon 5 years gone (how did they all think Claire was dead after never saving her at Odessa but still Nathan knew her anyway?? Oh well :P).  
> In this story Future Sylar lost his abilities somehow, which is why young Peter can't just absorb them from him, and why it took so long for Sylar to re-learn how to borrow Hiro's after the accident.  
> And the rules of time travel in the show are so confusing, so if some of the logistics are wrong, please forgive me ^.^


End file.
